


Fixing the Problem

by Highlander_II



Series: kink_bingo: 2012 [43]
Category: Van Helsing (2004)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Mirrors, Oral Sex, Reconditioning, Sexual Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 12:48:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Highlander_II/pseuds/Highlander_II
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Van Helsing has an aversion to mirrors; Carl has to get him over it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fixing the Problem

**Author's Note:**

> Formerly titled "Mirror Rehab"

Carl pushed Van Helsing to his hands and knees on the floor. "On your knees, Gabriel," he growled in the man's ear. "I have plans for us."

The moment Carl had come into the room, Van Helsing had been expecting something. Not necessarily this, but something. It wasn't often that Carl played with the rough and tumble, but when he did, Van Helsing rather enjoyed it. He was sure Carl knew that too.

He was on his knees, staring into the mirror Carl had placed in the room several months before. It wasn't initially intended for times like this, but Carl had used the idea as an aid to recondition Van Helsing's mind. That had been a long and arduous venture. But now, Van Helsing was not objecting to the mirror's presence in the room. Much the opposite in fact.

Carl bolted the door and slipped out of his robes. He trailed his fingers lightly over his pet's skin. He slapped his hand down on Van Helsing's ass. And smoothed the pain away a moment later.

While he was readying his pet, he rumbled in his ear: "I want you to watch yourself in the mirror, Gabriel. I want you to see yourself being fucked by me. Do you understand?"

Van Helsing nodded, sucking air into his lungs sharply when Carl's fingers pressed just so. "Yes. Yes, I understand." When fingers clenched his hair and jerked his head back, he added, "Sir."

Once Carl was satisfied with his preparatory work, he lined himself up behind Van Helsing and pushed his cock, slowly in. Eyes closed, head dropped back, he relished the hot, tight feeling of being there, being inside his obedient pet. It wasn't often they had the chance to do this sort of thing without interruption, so when the opportunity presented itself, Carl made sure they took full advantage of it.

It was what one might call the 'luck of the draw' that they were not on assignment while most of the rest of the Order was. It rarely ever happened. In fact, in the many years they had been with the Order, this was only the second time they could recall. And the last time had been more than memorable.

Carl gripped Van Helsing's hips and dragged him onto his cock as he thrust himself forward. The sounds the man made for him were exquisite. He loved to hear Van Helsing moan or cry out or growl in pleasure beneath him. This time, he wanted to also see the man's face while he was being fucked.

"Don't close your eyes, Gabriel," he snarled against Van Helsing's back when he saw his eyes slip closed. "You're supposed to be watching yourself."

Through several panting breaths, Van Helsing forced an apology. He peeled his eyes open and Carl saw him staring directly at him. He made a point to sharpen his thrusts and up his speed, just to see how his lovely, debauched pet would react.

Van Helsing's fingers clawed at the floor. He spaced his knees farther apart. He attempted to find any way to brace himself against the strong, powerful thrusts. Carl was drinking in every wonderful, painful face Van Helsing made in the mirror.

He leaned forward, over Van Helsing's shoulder to ask, "Do you love it? Do you like seeing yourself getting fucked like the wanton beast you are?"

Van Helsing nodded. He kept his eyes on the mirror the entire time and replied in stuttered phrases, "Yes, Carl... yes, I love it... love seeing you fuck me."

Carl could see his arms beginning to shake from holding himself up, the muscles tight and fatigued from the exertion. But he wasn't finished. He had much more energy left for this.

He leaned in again. "Do you wish to come, my pet?" he asked and nipped at Van Helsing's ear.

The sound of fingernails grazing concrete was the first response, followed by a grumbled, "OhGodyes-"

"I'm not sure I should let you."

Van Helsing's only reply was a strangled whimper of pent-up frustration.

A few more thrusts, then, "Oh, all right. But keep watching the mirror."

While Van Helsing was not always the fastest learner, he knew for a damned fact he couldn't come with his eyes open - even Carl was aware of that. It's why he had told Van Helsing to do it that way. He wanted to see him _try_.

And he did. It took every ounce of energy he had left in his weary body to try to come with his eyes open, but there was just no way he could manage. His eyes fell closed for his climax and he snapped them back open as soon as he could.

"We'll call that good enough, my pet. Now brace yourself." Then Carl pounded into him as hard and fast as he could until he spilled himself deep inside. He let out a soft groan as he collapsed across Van Helsing's back, then felt them both drop to the floor as Van Helsing's arms finally could no longer hold him up. "Such a good pet," he whispered and ruffled Van Helsing's hair. "Next time, I'll have to fold you across the bed so we don't end up on the floor."

* * *

**Several Months Before...**

The canyon floor was rushing at him with increasing speed. Contrary to popular belief, Van Helsing was not actually fond of being thrown from a roof to plummet to his death at the bottom of a deep canyon. He would have to remember to ask Carl for a pair of wings. Until then, he would have to manage with what he had.

He fired the grappling gun toward the roof. Rather than watch, he closed his eyes and held his breath until he felt the hook find purchase on a ledge. Every muscle in his body jerked hard with the sudden deceleration.

His knees and ankles screamed as they were jarred against the side of the cliff. Through the pain, he just had to make it through the pain. Then back up the cliff face.

He looked up. Damn. It was a long way up. This was going to take a while.

* * *

He noticed it as soon as he entered the room. It hadn't been there when he'd left on assignment three days ago. Now it was here, staring at him.

Why was it there? What did Carl want it for?

"It's a mirror, Gabriel. It shows reflections," Carl answered a few of the unasked questions.

"I am aware of that, Carl. But why is it here?" he asked, turning his back to it for the first time.

Carl smiled. He patted Van Helsing's cheek, then left the room.

The mirror bothered him. After the encounter with Dracula, mirrors were not his favorite accessories. He knew Dracula was gone, but the mirror made him uncomfortable. Maybe that was the idea.

He turned the mirror around. It helped. It at least let him change his clothes without feeling overly nervous.

When Carl returned to the room later that evening, he noticed the mirror facing backward. He hadn't put it that way when he'd brought it in. It was far less useful when the reflective side was facing the wrong way.

He left it as it was and perched himself in his chair with a book. As Van Helsing entered the room at the end of the day, Carl peered over the book. Waiting.

Van Helsing removed his coat and turned to hang it on its proscribed hook, but stopped when he realized Carl was looking at him. He blinked. "Is something wrong?"

Carl shook his head. "Hang up your coat and hat, Gabriel." Once Van Helsing had done that, Carl asked, "Why did you turn the mirror around?"

Van Helsing traded glances with Carl and the reversed mirror. "Negative associations," he answered.

"Related to what?" Carl set his book aside and leaned forward, listening carefully.

Van Helsing took a deep breath, then responded. "Associated with Dracula and vampires."

"I see. And what is it you believe will happen?"

"Vampires use mirrors as portals."

Carl sat back in his chair. "Not all mirrors are portals, Gabriel."

Van Helsing glowered at Carl. "I know that," he snarled. "But unless you have a way to distinguish one from the other, my apprehension is justified."

Admittedly, Van Helsing's reasoning was valid. Fear responses to stimuli, especially in Van Helsing's line of work, were crucial for survival. Carl knew that. Carl could respect that.

He rose from the chair and waved Van Helsing closer. "I understand, Gabriel. Come to bed. We'll deal with the mirror tomorrow."

"Does it have to stay in here?"

"Yes. As a way to help you overcome your fear."

Van Helsing felt his chest tighten. He didn't like the mirror being in the room. But, he began to strip out of his clothes. Carl stepped up close and rubbed at his crotch. "What are you doing?" he grunted at the friar.

"You know what I'm doing," Carl whispered against his jaw. He curled his fingers around Van Helsing's cock and began to stroke slowly.

"Carl," Van Helsing growled through his teeth.

"Look at the mirror, Gabriel."

He didn't want to look. He hated the mirror. He didn't want it there. But he could refuse Carl very little. And almost nothing when they were intimate. He turned his head to catch sight of the mirror – the back side of the mirror – just as Carl knelt on the floor to wrap his lips around his cock.

He knew what Carl was doing. He wasn't sure it would work, but he knew what he was trying to do. Eyes closed, Van Helsing groaned through the feel of Carl's hot mouth on his cock.

It didn't take long before he was spilling down Carl's throat and looking for a place to plant his hand for support before his knees decided to give out. Carl's hands on his hips were all he had. He slumped toward the floor, but Carl managed to guide him to the softer landing point of the bed.

* * *

Carl had, presumably, been up for a while by the time Van Helsing rolled over to sunlight through the window. There was a short missive on the table by the bed informing him that the Cardinal had requested his presence. He grumbled something unpleasant and tugged the sheet over his head.

He knew Carl wouldn't return to the room until late – so much to do in the lab. He wanted to do anything but talk to Cardinal Jinette. However, he knew his duty. He would get up and go see the Cardinal, like always.

****

"You wanted to see me?" Van Helsing asked when he stepped through the door.

"Have a seat, Van Helsing." Jinette waved to an empty chair, just as opulent as all the other furnishings in the room. He hated the Cardinal's office and all of its heavy, lush, red fabrics and heavy, leather-bound books. He always felt like he couldn't breathe in here. The fact that it was at least three times the size of his own living quarters was irrelevant. His room was as close to 'home' as he ever felt. This office made him feel trapped.

When he did sit, it was more out of a desire for comfort than following any orders. His left knee was alerting him to the pain caused by his encounter with the cliff.

The conversation was less painful than the debrief from the night before, but not enough to keep Van Helsing's mind from drifting while Jinette rambled in Italian about being true to the Order, following directions and completing missions. The latter, preferably, without killing anyone involved. The lecture was a familiar one.

A sharp twinge when he shifted his knee was good at keeping him from drifting off to sleep. He must have made a pained sound, since Jinette stopped talking in order to narrow his eyes at him from across the desk.

"Are you all right, Van Helsing?" the Cardinal asked.

"Uh, no," he answered simply. "I need to go to the infirmary."

Jinette nodded. Van Helsing gingerly pushed himself from the chair and limped down the corridor. The infirmary was empty, so he leaned against the wall to wait.

* * *

Carl saw Van Helsing walking – unevenly – toward the commissary. The uneasy gait was concerning. Why hadn't he seen it earlier?

"Van Helsing, are you all right?" he asked, hurrying to catch up, even at a limp, Van Helsing's strides were longer than Carl's.

Van Helsing stopped to wait. It eased the pain on his knee for a moment. "Fine. Hurt my knee on the last assignment. I'll be off field duty for a while."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Carl frowned.

"I didn't know until this morning. You were already in the lab."

Carl frowned deeper. "You didn't realize last night?"

Van Helsing shook his head as he leaned forward to rub at his knee with one hand. "It didn't hurt last night."

With a gentle sigh, Carl patted Van Helsing's shoulder. "Come on, we'll get something to eat, then we'll do something for your knee."

It wasn't anything he would ever admit, but Van Helsing was grateful there was a commissary within The Order's headquarters. If only for times like this when walking was difficult. It meant he didn't have to venture into the city or climb stairs.

He loved Rome. He loved walking the city's streets. Partaking of the city's cuisine and architecture. It's why he appreciated the on-site amenities – viewing the city while he was in pain was far less enjoyable.

Carl planted Van Helsing in a chair, almost daring him to move, while he scurried off to get food. Van Helsing didn't mind, though he wanted to tell Carl not to wait on him hand and foot. He was in pain, not incapable of movement.

Had his knee not stubbornly decided to throb, he would have followed the little friar just to be contrary.

* * *

Outside Carl's quarters, Van Helsing leaned against the stone wall, head back, eyes closed, teeth gritted. For the third day in a row, he cursed the layout of the Order's center of operations that put field operative quarters so damned far away from those of the scientists and inventors (he didn't always spend the night with Carl). While he didn't doubt that the walking was good for rehabilitating his knee, the damned stairs were torture.

He would have joined Carl in his quarters like usual, but one, his knee hurt a lot more than the last few days and, two, the foot traffic in the corridor was higher than normal as a result of a new assignment for the weapons makers. Had Carl not been tasked with Van Helsing's rehabilitation, he likely would have been dashing off as well.

The corridor cleared, but Carl had yet to exit his quarters. With a heavy sigh, Van Helsing settled his shoulders against the wall to wait.

Something - or someone - knocked his knee. He threw out a fist, completely on instinct, and felt it connect with the flesh and bone of a human face. He was more than aware an expletive or two tumbled from his mouth moments before all the air escaped his lungs.

The man Van Helsing had hit was moaning on the floor, while Van Helsing was clutching his own knee and trying not to howl in pain. He caught a flash of movement and realized in a moment of lucidity that Carl must have stepped into the hallway.

"Van Helsing?" Carl said, clearly concerned, then, when he noticed the man with blood running from his nose, knelt to inspect the damage.

"It's all right, Carl," the man said, gingerly touching fingertips to his nose, "it was my fault." The man rolled to his feet slowly and scurried away.

Carl turned back to Van Helsing, waiting. The man was clearly in a great deal of pain. He realized what had happened - that the entire ordeal had been a series of untimely events - and scaled back his immediate emotional reaction. "Are you all right?" he asked Van Helsing.

He nodded. "Almost," was all the man could gasp between breaths.

Folding his arms across his chest as he rose to his feet, Carl leaned against the opposite wall to wait. Once Van Helsing had regained his breath, Carl asked, "Would you like to tell me what happened?"

"Accident," Van Helsing replied and walked his hands up the wall behind him for support.

"Your knee or his face?" Carl continued, indicating he was referring to the man who had exited the hallway rather swiftly.

Van Helsing sighed against the wall, exhaling over a ping of pain. "Both, actually. He hit my knee, my fist hit his face."

Carl, patient man that he was, took a few breaths, then said, "Very well. We'll start on some therapy after lunch."

* * *

"Carl, I want to rest. My knee hurts," Van Helsing whined and Carl ignored him.

Carl knew what the stubborn bastard needed. He said nothing in response to the whining as he led Van Helsing down a narrow corridor. When he turned to see that the monster hunter was following, he could see the man's broad shoulders nearly spanned the width of the hallway.

"Where are we going?" Van Helsing grumped as his shoulder scraped against the wall again.

"You'll see." Carl took a left and, a few feet later, unlocked a narrow door. He waited, then ushered Van Helsing into the room.

Across the threshold, Van Helsing tipped his head back, a glance to the ceiling to be sure his head wouldn't bump against it, the room was smaller than most others within the Order. He looked around the room – in the center was a large tub, filled with obviously hot water. Around the tub was a series of what looked like benches made from a soft, sweet-smelling wood.

"What is this place?" he asked.

Carl smiled softly. "Therapy." When Van Helsing frowned back in confusion, Carl explained, "The heat and the water will be good for your knee."

Taking Carl at his word, Van Helsing stripped out of his clothes, wholly unconcerned about Carl's presence by this point. His knee hurt and he was willing to try anything – including Carl's therapy idea.

He sat on one of the benches and swung his legs over, into the water. It was hot. Once he slid fully into the bath, he understood what Carl had been saying. He sighed contentedly. Carl was one brilliant little friar. The steam and the hot water both did wonders for, not only his knee, but the rest of his sore, weary body as well.

Carl slipped into the water beside him. Van Helsing would have moved, but he was too damned comfortable with his head leaned back and his eyes closed.

"You – you are a genius, Carl."

"I know."

Van Helsing chuckled. To Carl, that was the best sound in the world.

****

The hour-long bath in the hot water did more for his achy body and mood than anything else recently. Including the play sessions with Carl. He loved those, but they were as emotionally draining as they were physically sometimes, which made it harder to keep his moods level. 

He'd have to remember to tell Carl that.

Stretched out on the small cot in his room, he draped his arm around Carl's shoulders when the man rolled over into his chest. This was what he missed the most when he was away on assignments – holding Carl, sleeping beside him, being with him. Sure, their initial interactions had been more confrontational, but Van Helsing was like that with everyone. He considered it a survival tactic. Once someone had earned his trust, he might still maintain a confrontational air, but there would be more playfulness to it. Carl had earned that long ago.

He tugged the sheet up over them both and settled in to go to sleep.

****

In the morning, he woke first. He tested his knee and found it better than the day before. He gave it a few stretches, then rolled out of bed, leaving Carl bundled in the covers. He wasn't ready to kneel just yet, so he settled for taking a seat in the wooden chair by the window.

When Carl woke, Van Helsing was sitting calmly in the chair. He watched the friar stretch languidly, then swing his feet to the floor.

"I trust you slept well," he said and one corner of his mouth tipped up at Carl's affirmative nod. "Good."

Carl seemed to be in a good mood, which Van Helsing appreciated. However, he wasn't expecting to suddenly be ordered to his feet and directed to stand before the mirror that was still occupying space in the room.

He felt his legs quake. They almost wouldn't move for him. "Carl," he whispered.

"Do it, Gabriel." Carl was not playing.

Van Helsing had gotten to his feet, but making his way to the mirror was harder. He took a deep breath and forced himself to take those few steps. He assumed Carl's requested position and waited.

He was growing accustomed to standing in front of the mirror with it facing the wall and had gotten his muscles to relax. But, when Carl turned the mirror around, he couldn't help the few reflex steps backward he took away from the reflective surface.

"Gabriel," Carl chastised. "Please?"

He took several deep breaths. He was trying.

"What are you planning to do?" he asked Carl, his limbs still trembling slightly.

Carl approached and put his hands on Van Helsing's chest. "Ultimately, the goal is to condition you. Teach you that not every mirror is a portal. To accept that the mirror is only that – a mirror."

A few more deep breaths and Van Helsing nodded once. Then he took those few steps back to where Carl wanted him to stand. It was a big step.

Carl sidled up next to him, one hand on his back, the other sliding over his abs until his adept fingers curled around his cock. Van Helsing gasped. His hands clenched at his sides, unsure where else he should put them. Air hissed through his teeth. "Carl," he gritted.

The smooth stroking of Carl's hand continued. The friar said nothing and Van Helsing was left to wonder if he had actually spoken aloud or if the sounds he thought he was making were only in his head. When Carl instructed him to come, while watching Carl stroke him via the mirror, he was pretty sure it hadn't all been in his head.

He almost couldn't focus on the mirror. His orgasm rushed in on him without warning and he was spilling himself over Carl's hand before he could fix his eyes on the mirror.

Carl soothed him, whispering against his shoulder as he brought him down slowly. "That's it, Gabriel."

Van Helsing's legs began to shake from the exertion of standing while Carl stroked him off. His knee pinged a slight pain as a reminder. "Carl, I need to sit down," he grunted in discomfort.

The orgasm was nice, but it didn't change his feelings about the damned mirror. He still didn't like it. He wasn't sure he ever would. However, he would do as Carl asked until he convinced him otherwise.

With his weight off his knee, he could breathe easier. Carl had even rounded up some ice to put on the injury before they went to breakfast.

"Gabriel, I'm going to have you sit here in this chair facing the mirror until it's time to go," Carl instructed.

Van Helsing wanted to do anything but that. If he could have walked out of the room effectively, he would have. He sighed and tried to keep his leg still. "Do we have to do this now?"

"No," Carl answered. "When would you rather do it?"

"Never."

With a shake of his head, "That isn't one of the options."

He frowned. "Why not? Isn't this supposed to be collaborative? Are we not on equal footing to say what we do and do not like or want?" He set his jaw, then added, "I don't want to work with the mirror. I don't like it being in here and I don't like the itchy feeling its presence gives me when I walk in the room."

"Are you done?" Carl asked, gruff and maybe angry. Van Helsing nodded a response and Carl continued, "I understand that you don't like it. If this were related entirely to our sexual endeavors, I would gladly indulge you. But it's not. You cannot be afraid of mirrors during an assignment." Carl rolled his eyes. "The damned Cardinal wanted me to stand you before the mirror in the center of the courtyard. _I_ managed to convince him to let me do it my way. However, we can do the other if you'd rather."

"Why didn't he just tell me? Why the games?" Van Helsing's ears were beginning to burn and he was prepared to shred the Cardinal to ribbons if it came to that.

Carl shook his head. "I don't know. Believe me, I suggested that as well. He didn't care."

Van Helsing was ready to march to the Cardinal's office and quit. Then to tear the Cardinal apart. But Carl smoothed a hand over his shoulders to quell his anger.

"I know you're angry. But you cannot go after him."

"No," Van Helsing exhaled heavily through his nose. "But I can drag this out for months."

* * *

The reconditioning did stretch out for months. Almost to the point where Cardinal Jinette wanted to suspend all of Van Helsing's assignments until the issue was resolved. Carl, swift of tongue and quick of wit, convinced the Cardinal of all the negative attributes of such a plan.

Van Helsing had found it rather difficult to stifle chuckles during the conversation. Even to the point of needing to excuse himself from the room over a supposed coughing fit.

Carl growled at him a bit once they were back in Carl's room.

"I am sorry, Carl. I was trying."

"Yes," Carl said. "I'm aware, but we only have a few more weeks to finish this before they decide to do it 'their' way."

'Their' in this case, he knew, meant the Cardinal and the rest of the panel that drew up the assignments. That panel ran the Order. They could be dangerous. Van Helsing knew that. He kept his eyes focused on the floor. "Thank you. For defending me. They don't understand."

Carl pressed a hand to Van Helsing's chest. "I know. That's why I defend you."

"It won't take weeks to finish, either. We're almost there," Van Helsing admitted.

A warm, yet sly smile crept over Carl's lips. "I know that as well, Gabriel. Why do you think I talked them into the extra time?"

The grin that Van Helsing gave in return was equally as sly. This was why he and Carl worked so well together. For as much as Carl wouldn't let him get away with some things, when it came to skirting a few of the Cardinal's requests, Carl would sometimes let him get away with murder.

"Now, where did we leave off with your conditioning, Gabriel?"

Van Helsing leaned in close to Carl's ear and whispered where he thought they had left off. If the eyebrow arched in his direction was any indication, Carl was in agreement with his assessment. And if the look from Carl wasn't enough, the pressure on his shoulder, pushing him to his knees before the friar, definitely meant they were on the same page.

Carl prepared him and lined up behind him. His legs began to shake in anticipation. He no longer cared about the damned mirror. He wanted to fuck. And Carl knew it. It was the only reason he could gather for why the man was taking so damned long.

Van Helsing grunted and growled in frustration. 'Thrust his hips back to get what he wanted. Carl was taking his sweet damned time. It was driving him crazy.

A sharp crack across his ass stilled him. He knew he was impatient, but he had been waiting for this all day. He wanted this. He needed this.

He was aware that Carl knew that too. He was more than aware of what Carl was doing. Why he was taking so long. Once Carl finally entered him, it was almost too much. Too much sensation. Too much contact. Too much heat.

It was exactly what he needed.

Van Helsing exhaled sharply and felt his fingers curl into the rug beneath him. "Carl," he breathed, so close to losing control.

"You know you have to be quiet, Gabriel," Carl said, punctuated with a deep thrust of his hips.

Van Helsing knew. It didn't mean he would be able to do it. He was very bad at staying quiet. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. He was so close. Ready. Wanting to beg Carl for release.

He opened his mouth to do just that, but found a wad of cloth pushed between his teeth instead.

"Please learn to follow directions, Gabriel," Carl said, voice breathy and heavy as he continued to drive himself into Van Helsing.

The number one reason for not making noise was to prevent being caught. Though, Van Helsing did, on occasion, entertain the thought of being caught just so they could be kicked out of the Order and live without taking orders from men on a mission driven so hard that operatives could almost not be trained fast enough. The main reason he never followed through – he wasn't sure what, exactly, the Order would do to them _after_ they were kicked out.

Van Helsing whuffed out a breath as he and Carl collapsed into an exhausted heap on the floor. He looked up and caught sight of himself in the mirror. For the first time in weeks, he didn't have an immediate urge to smash the thing into pieces.

It wasn't until later that he asked Carl how many more 'sessions' might be needed. Carl's response indicated that the sessions would increase in frequency to ensure completion within the time-frame agreed upon by the Cardinal. When he wanted, Carl could be a wicked, wicked man.


End file.
